Her heart did a fair imitation of Tally's tail. "Sorry? Oh, none, I suppose. You know how it is when it's time to leave; you get twitchy to be home. Come in, Lucy Gibson, your time is up and all that."

He looked at her strangely. "Gibson?"

"I meant Hyde. Gibson is... someone else's name."

He folded his arms. "Who else's? For some reason, simple Cornish bloke that I am, I don't think I'm getting the full story here."

"You're not really Cornish; you're a Londoner," replied Lucy, floundering.

"True, but I'm sure I've heard Gibson somewhere before recently. Maybe Fiona's mentioned it. Or was it Sara?" He frowned.

"Maybe you're going senile..." said Lucy lightly, her heart rate rocketing.

Josh laughed gently. "There's always that possibility but it's going to bug me all day now until I remember. I'll ask Sara, she's got a memory like an elephant."

"Good job she doesn't look like one!" laughed Lucy.

She was struggling even more now, almost ready to hit the rocks. "However, back to the original question. In answer to me not being ready to plunge back into the rat race, name me the person who wants to go back home after a vacation?" she tried.

"I don't know. I've seen plenty of people who can't wait to see the back of Tresco Creek after a wet fortnight with the kids," he said wryly. "But that won't work, I'm afraid. I still don't think you're being straight with me."

He had her wriggling like a worm on a hook and he wasn't the kind of man who'd let go easily.

"OK, Josh. I am going to be straight with you," she said in what she hoped was best assertive executive mode. "I've had a great time here. Staying at Tresco has meant a lot to me," she felt a catch in her voice. She wasn't pretending. "An awful lot, but now, I have to go back."

"Give me three good reasons why?"

"I could give you a hundred. My job, my flat, commitments..."

"That's two and a half. Who are you committed to? Those, excuse me, those bastards you work for? No job that's driven you to run away down here is worth suffering like that. I don't think anyone should have you in their power like that, no matter how much money they're paying you."

Lucy felt almost weak with guilt. Letitia's requests for carrot cake hardly represented the heights of corporate bullying. "I wouldn't say that I'm in their power, not as such. The people aren't that bad and the money isn't, um... as significant a factor as you might think."

Josh's eyes were making her feel as transparent as the sea off the cove. "So if it's not the money and they're not that bad, what made you race off down here?" he said. "Because, call me suspicious, but you know what it looks like from here?"

No, but I've a feeling you're going to tell me, she thought.

"It looks like a man."

"Why should it have to be anything to do with a guy?" she said lightly.

"Because there has to be a very good reason for a woman in your position, with your capabilities, to just run away and, I have to be honest with you, I've never completely bought the stressed-out executive story. I've seen ruthless and you just don't seem the ruthless type."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He shook his head. "I'm only being honest. I generally know when someone's being economical with the truth, mainly because I've done it myself in the past."

Her silence told him everything and he went on. "I thought so. Well, you can tell me to mind my own business, but if it was me, if somebody fucked me up like that, hurt me so much I felt like quitting, you know what I'd do? I'd cut them out." She flinched as he smacked his hands together hard. "No one messes me around, I don't give second chances, and I never waste tears over people who aren't worth it. I save them for the people who are," he said, his expression hardening.

No tears. Ever. Apart from Marnie and, perhaps, his brother Luke, she wondered who else had ever made the grown-up Josh cry. Perhaps no one. She was careful when she replied, feeling she was treading on eggshells. "No second chances? That's one hell of a high standard to live up to, Josh. I'm not sure many people could live with it."

"Maybe, but I told myself a long time ago that I wouldn't take any shit off anyone. But that's just me. What you do is none of my business, but I can see how he's messed you up and I can see you don't want to go back even now, do you?"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you denying that some bloke's the cause of you being here? What you said the other night about running away from someone, was it him?"

If only his version of the truth wasn't so tempting, she thought. Being crossed in love by some two-timing git was so much nobler than having humiliated the nation's favorite bagel maker on live TV.

"OK. You're right. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back to London or to work but I can't stay here. What about my job, for a start? I'd have to throw that in. Who'd pay the mortgage if I stayed? I'd have to find tenants, sublet the flat, and find somewhere to live down here."

"There's always Creekside Cottage."

"That would be asking a lot of Fiona's generosity."

"True, but she strikes me as a generous woman."

"She's a good friend, but I couldn't impose on her to that extent. Then there's my mum..." And Charlie, she thought, picturing both of them on the beach, drinking Twinings herbal tea and eyeing up surfers in wetsuits. "Although I suppose she could visit. It's only a couple of hundred miles and Mum could have a break."

She let her eyes rest on the sea, where the water glittered seductively. "What have you got me saying? People are always running off to start a new life in the country on TV, but you can't actually give up everything and do it, can you? This isn't actually real."

"Ah, that's the problem, is it? I don't actually exist. I'm a figment of the tourist board's imagination. You know, it always amazes me that people from cities think that their world is the 'real' one. As if we vanish after their two weeks of sun and sand. This is real, Lucy, to me it's the only real there is."

"I didn't mean to be patronizing. I know this is your home," she said softly.

"And I shouldn't be so narrow-minded," he replied with a sigh. "I know I shouldn't stick my nose in, but I have to say this, just in case. Mrs. Sennen, our housekeeper, has finally decided she's had enough. This means I'm going to need someone to do the preparation and changeovers on the cottages. It's time I concentrated on the maintenance and marketing the place properly before I end up re-mortgaging again."

"Josh..."

Lucy could see he was even more awkward now. "I know it's menial work, nothing like you're used to and the money won't keep you, but it would be a start."

"Josh, are you actually offering me a job as your cleaner?"

He stared at her. "Well, yes. Yes, I am."

She couldn't help but smile. "It's a kind offer."

"I just thought if you wanted to stay, I could help. A bit but, oh bollocks. Ignore me. I've had too much sun."

"No, I'm touched. Really, I am."

"I was just trying to make you see that it's possible to change your life if you really want to, but I can see I'm way off the mark. If you do change your mind, come round to the farmhouse after supper. I'll be in until seven-ish. If you want the job, it's yours," he said gruffly.

Clicking his fingers to Tally, he left her, too stunned to move. Too shocked at being offered a choice that made her life ten times more complicated than it already was. Because Josh had just made staying in Tresco Creek seem not only possible, but more tempting than she could ever have imagined.

Chapter 22.

After leaving Lucy in the dunes, Josh still couldn't believe what he'd just done even as he saw the familiar chimneys of Tresco Farmhouse come into view. He couldn't believe he had asked-make that tried to persuade-this girl to stay on in Cornwall when she had a well-paid job to return to in London. Hell, he'd gone and offered her a job as a cleaner.

"Tally!" he called as the dog sniffed the length of the farmhouse wall, searching for familiar smells.

"Are you denying that some bloke's the cause of you being here? What you said the other night about running away from someone, was it him?"

He cringed as he recalled his words to Lucy, wondering if he'd done the right thing by making his job offer. Back there in the dunes, it had seemed exactly the right thing to do. When he'd seen her standing there against the sea and sky, trying to pretend she was happy to go home to London, he'd hadn't been able to stop himself throwing her a lifeline. There was surely nothing wrong with that, he decided, but what if... what if he hadn't had Lucy's welfare at heart when he'd asked her to stay? He wasn't normally given to navel gazing or analyzing his motives, but this was one feeling he couldn't ignore. What if he'd been so insistent that she stay not to help her-but because he couldn't bear her to leave?

Lucy was still telling herself it was impossible that she could stay as she walked back along the beach to Creekside Cottage later that afternoon. Still telling herself as she squashed clothes into her bulging suitcase while Fiona clicked away manically in the main bedroom.

Her own little room was stuffy. The mercury in the old thermometer in the hall had nudged its way higher that afternoon, and even now it was stifling. She'd thrown open the window to get some air but found the air as thick as porridge.

She'd already stripped to her bra and knickers to try and keep cool and was thinking of going the whole hog when she caught sight of herself in the mirror and held her breath. She'd changed. Her hair was brushing her shoulders, wild and curly. She'd given up on her straightening irons after a week in Tresco, the moist sea air defeating every attempt to tame her hair into submission. Only now did she realize that she'd given up caring too. Why spend her life trying to iron out crinkles that were natural?

The "office pallor" Sara had kindly pointed out had been replaced by a glow that wasn't Josh's deep gold, but was pale straw or clear honey. She must have lost a few pounds too, which she had Hengist to thank for. She found herself smiling, for once, quite liking what she saw in the mirror, at least on the outside.

Inside, she had to admit, she'd changed too. She'd learned how to lie pretty well for a start.

A bloke, Josh had said, that's what brought you running away down here, and he was right. But Josh obviously thought that it was Nick who'd been doing the hurting, the "fucking around," when in fact it was her.

Downstairs in the hall, the grandfather clock chimed a quarter to seven. She wondered if Josh was waiting for her answer or if he'd forgotten he'd even asked. She stood a minute longer then snatched up the nearest piece of clothing from the rug. Shrugging on a pair of flip-flops, she headed down the stairs past an overheated Hengist who was dozing in the hall. As she stepped over him, his ears pricked and he gave a small howl of expectation.

"Not now, boy. Tomorrow."

"Luce! Is that you?" came Fiona's voice from up above.

"Back later, Fi! Just off for a walk."

"If you're going to the garage, can you please get some more red wine?"

But Lucy was already through the door. Hurrying down the path and out of the gate, she crossed the yard to Tresco Farmhouse, its gray facade lit by the coppery sunset. The pickup wasn't outside and her heart sank. Josh must have left already, forgetting his offer-or perhaps, regretting it? Hands on her hips, she stopped outside the gate. To her surprise, she was breathing quite hard.

The farmhouse door opened and Tally ran out, followed by Josh, keys jingling in his hand. When he saw her, he waited. She made her legs move and walked over to him. He said nothing as she drew near then, as she reached the back door, she was sure he was frowning at her.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Only..."

"Yes?" she panted, slightly worried by his expression. She was sure he seemed about to say something serious. Maybe he was regretting the invitation...

His expression suddenly softened. "I was just wondering if that was your idea of an interview suit?"

She glanced down at her sequined clubbing top, her office pencil skirt, and her little heeled flip-flops with the faded flower between the toes. "I was halfway through packing," she said.

"Halfway? That close?"

"Yes. That close. I thought you'd gone out. The truck wasn't here."

"It's at the sailing club. I was on my way there now, in fact." He held open the door. "But it can wait. Come in."

Lucy stepped through the doorway into the farmhouse. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the deep shadows of the room. A few stray shafts of evening sunlight managed to penetrate the thick panes, sliding along the quarry tiles and over the scrubbed wood of the farmhouse table. Box files, official-looking envelopes and a windsurfing magazine were scattered on the table. Washing-up was piled on the draining board next to a Belfast sink. The room smelled of lemon, old age, and something vaguely herby.

"Well, this is me," said Josh, resting his jean-clad backside against the countertop as Lucy hovered in front of the kitchen range.

"It's nice. Cozy," said Lucy, really meaning it. "What's that lovely smell?"

"Probably coriander, possibly mint." He pointed to a casserole on the countertop. "I've been making a lamb tagine."

"Oh. You cook then?"

"Yes. And wash up, make beds, and clean toilets. In fact, I'm almost half civilized. Are you that surprised?"

"No, of course not," said Lucy, embarrassed. "You'll have to give me the recipe for the tagine."

"Do you cook, then?"

"Occasionally... sometimes... OK, I admit, I barely know my way around an Indian menu, but I don't want to sound like a complete stranger to domesticity."

"Then you can relax because no cooking is required for this job. Why don't you sit down?"

"Thanks."

Lucy settled awkwardly into the wooden chair but Josh stayed where he was. Over in the corner, Tally lapped at a bowl of water, her chain clinking against the enamel.

"Can I get you a drink? Tea? Beer?"

"No, but thanks for the offer."

He folded his arms, his gray T-shirt tautening across his chest. "OK. You haven't come here to share recipes or for a nice cup of Earl Grey, so let's not mess about anymore. Have you made a decision?"

"Yes, I have. I've been thinking about it carefully, and I'd like to stay in Tresco, at least for a few months. If you don't mind having me on that basis, I'd like to take the job."

A narrow shaft of sunlight skimmed one side of his body from feet to face, leaving the rest in darkness, so that she couldn't quite see whether he was pleased or sorry that she'd said yes.

Then he levered himself off the countertop and stepped into the light. "Then it's yours, but I meant what I said about it being menial stuff. Cleaning bathrooms, emptying rubbish, making beds. Clearing up after people and doing the key changeovers. Are you sure it's what you really want?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure about anything anymore, but I promise to stay until the end of the season, then I'll decide. Is that any good to you?"

He hesitated a moment then nodded. "Fair enough. You do know I can only pay you just over the minimum wage, don't you? It'll be a shock after what you're used to."

"What? You mean there won't be a fat bonus? No stock options?"